"'possum playing." 255 



dence tliat the game is up. The race, though 

 rapid, is a long one, through the deep swamp, 

 crossing the muddy branch into the pine lands, 

 where the dogs come to a halt, unite in conclave, 

 and set up an incessant barking at the foot of a 

 pine. " A coon, a coon! din't I tell you," says 

 Monday, '' that if Pincher come across a coon, 

 he would do he work ?" An additional piece of 

 split light wood is added to the torch, and the 

 coon is seen doubled up in the form of a hornet's 

 nest in the very top of the long-leaved pine, (P. 

 palustris). The tree is without a branch for 

 forty feet or upwards, and it is at once decided 

 that it must be cut down: the axe is soon at 

 work, and the tree felled. The glorious battle 

 that ensues, the prowess of the dogs, and the 

 capture of the coon, follow as a matter of course. 

 Another trail is soon struck, and the dogs all 

 open upon it at once : in an instant they rush, 

 pell-mell, with a loud burst of mingled tongues, 

 upon some animal along the edge of an old field 

 destitute of trees. It proves to be an opos- 

 sum, detected in its nightly prowling expedi- 

 tion. At first, it feigns death, and rolling 

 itself into a ball, lies still on the ground; 

 but the dogs are up to this " 'possum play- 

 ing," and seize upon it at once. It now feels 

 that they are in earnest, and are not to be 

 deceived. It utters a low growl or two, shows 



